


All's Well That Mends Well

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: (Donna calls Charles a legit snack and Charles's brain 404s), Ace!Charles Emerson Winchester III, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Bubble Bath, Charles is just Soft, Domestic Fluff, Donna's Had a Long Day, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Married Life, OG title was "bathtub fluff in these trying times"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: "All will be mended," he tells her quietly.





	All's Well That Mends Well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_raven/gifts).

"Chuck!"

"I'm upstairs!" he calls back.

A few seconds later, she walks into the bathroom, exhaustion written into the lines of her face. "Oh, Chuck, I really hope you had a better day than I had."

"What happened?" he asks, setting his book on the edge of the tub and looking at her over the rims of his glasses. "Donna?"

There's a splotch of ink on one cheek, and she's clearly lost a few hairpins along the way, but the worst of it is the look of defeat.

"Donna," he says gently. "What happened?"

"Oh, Chuck, it's just... it's silly-"

"Donna." He holds out a hand. "Please. You need to rest, my dear, or you'll be no good to anyone."

She shakes her head, looking close to tears. "Who says I'm any good now?"

"You are good," he says, very gently. "A rough day does not make that any less true."

"You're biased," she sniffs.

"C'mon," he says, and squeezes her hand. "My grandmama always boasted the restorative effects of a hot bath on the soul."

"You want me to join you?" she asks cautiously, searching his face.

"I want whatever will make you smile again," he tells her. "Please, Donna."

"Al-alright," she says, carefully shedding her wrinkled suit jacket and skirt, her fingers fumbling on the buttons of her blouse.

"Do you-"

"I've got it!" she tells him, and it's all too much, he can see it in the way her fingers shake, so he climbs out, walking over to place his hands over top of hers.

"Allow me," he says softly, before flicking the buttons open.

She sniffs again, "Chuck, you're getting the floor all wet."

"Shh," he says, letting her blouse fall open, as he takes her hand and kisses it. "Nothing to fret about."

"Of course it is, because then we'll have to mop it up, and my clothes will get mildewy and- and-"

She shakes her head, wordlessly, and ignoring the fact that he's currently soaking wet, he wraps her in his arms, murmuring soothing nonsense words, running a hand over her hair.

"All will be mended," he tells her quietly.

"How do you know?"

"Call it faith," he says, and pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear, before wiping the tears from her face. "Come join me."

She nods, and he lets go of her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before climbing back into the tub, the water still blissfully hot.

She finishes undressing in silence, and climbs into the tub, her exhaustion melting away as she sinks into the hot water. "Oh."

"Yes," he says, and smiles.

"I think your grandmama had the right end of the stick," Donna tells him, her eyes slipping closed. One hand absentmindedly trails through the sweet-smelling bubbles. 

"What needs the most attention?" he asks.

"Let me see," she says lazily, "my back hurts, my feet ache, and i've got the start of a serious cramp."

"Mm. Give me your feet then."

She swings them over into his lap, gasping a little as he starts tickling her feet. “Chuck!”

It’s a relief to see her laugh, almost miraculous in itself as she tries to squirm away from him. He only relents when she splashes him, still giggling to herself.

He kneads at her feet, and the giggle turns to a wince. 

He relents. "Sorry, is it-"

"That's wonderful," she promises.

He nods, manipulating her feet, watching the expression on her face melt from frazzled to something resembling bliss. "I have half a mind to have a stern word with whatever idiot is in charge of your dress code."

"That would be the editor in chief," she says, "and that's a fight I'd pay money to see."

"Mm."

She yelps a little as his thumb digs into a particularly tender spot, splashing him again as she flails, making him laugh in the process. "Charles!"

He smiles at her, unable to hide the joy rising in him like a soap bubble. "What do you fancy for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," she says, waving a dismissive hand.

"I didn't ask," he reminds her. "I asked what you fancied."

"Oh Chuck," she says, opening her eyes. "I fancy  _ you _ .”

“Oh.”

“Tell me,” she asks. “What did I do to deserve you?"

He’s quiet for a second, his cheeks hot, bewitched and more than a bit bewildered by her words. “I…”

“Chuck?” She gives him a look. “Are you alright?”

“You never needed to deserve me,” he says when he can form words again. “But as far as I recall, it involved rather a lot of being yourself.”

“Oh.” It’s her turn to go quiet.

“Please just… come here. Let me look after your back.”

"I'm afraid the grumps may be contagious."

"I can't contract what I've had all my life, Donna," he deadpans, and then grins, the serious moment evaporating like the steam rising from the water. "Come here."

"Are you sure?"

"Donna," he says, his voice slipping a little into the sternness of his doctor-to-patient voice, before softening again. "Please."

"Oh alright." She allows him to tug her closer, where she settles in between his thighs, her back to his chest. 

"How's this?"

"Not very practical I'm afraid," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. He cards his fingers through her hair, finding the last of her hairpins and discarding them. He’s unable to suppress a smile when she sighs, and relaxes into him.

"Alright, alright." She shuffles forward a bit, exposing the marks that her slip has made in the soft skin of her shoulders. He has to swallow a sudden lump in his throat, but instead leans down, pressing his forehead to the skin. 

"Donna, I..."

"It's alright," she tells him, and the absurdity of her comforting him - after the day she's just had no less - "Least said, soonest mended, my darling."

He kisses the red indentations on her skin all the same, before massaging her shoulders, forcing out the tension, mindlessly and viciously working against each knot.

She ends up practically boneless with relief and relaxation against him, her head curved to fit in against his shoulder. "You're one in a million," she tells him sleepily.

"May I..." He clears his throat. "May I help clean you up?"

She nods, her eyes drifting closed again, and he's careful with the damp washcloth, lifting her arms out of the water to scrub them down, removing all traces of the ink and stress of her workday, cleaning her as gently as he can. 

The finishing touch is to gently rub the inkblot from her cheek, before he leans down and kisses her.

Her eyes flutter open. "Is this the part where I turn back into a frog?"

"I think you have very little to worry about in that regard," he replies gravely, before kissing her again. "Ribbet."

"Ribbet," she says, giggling. "You silly man."

He holds on to her, an ache lodged just under his sternum. "Are you feeling better now?" 

"Much." She laces her fingers through his. "You take such good care of me."

"Well, I... I suppose I do. Though the greatest gift I can give you is vulnerability, and it’s all I ask in return."

"It is so great," she says, cupping his face in her other hand, "so  _ awe-inspiring _ to have someone I can be vulnerable with."

"We are the lucky ones aren't we?"

"We are." She kisses the tip of his nose. "Ribbet."

He laughs. "I don't suppose you do want dinner after all?"

"If by dinner you mean blueberry pancakes, then yes, darling, I would  _ love  _ dinner."

"Pancakes it is then." He goes to move but then realizes. "Er. I'll just grab your robe for you, shall I?"

"Just a few more minutes, Chuck," she says. "I just want to enjoy you a bit longer."

"I suppose that would be acceptable."

“Good,” she says softly. “You made it better.”

“Which part?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not,” he says, and kisses her, victorious. When he pulls away, she looks up at him, and starts laughing, really laughing, one that flows out of her. “What?”

“Your glasses,” she says in between giggles, and he realizes belatedly that they’ve fogged up. 

“Oh.”

“Here, allow me,” she says, and takes them off. 

“Steamy,” he quips, pleased when she laughs harder.

~fin~


End file.
